Persistent Justice for an ExClown
by LilyHellsing
Summary: Sideshow Bob finally kills Bart Simpson. 18 yr old Lisa seems to be the only one of Springfield who believes Bob's innocent pleas. She tries to help find the real killer for real justice & get Bob out. Should she like the ex-clown so much? LisaXBob
1. Chapter 1

**I was watching the episode where Bob rigs the elections and had an idea. That and the fact that I'm trying to procrastinate reading Julius Caesar, I decided to write the idea into a short story! It's something of a romantic tragedy…**

**Idea: An 18 year old Lisa Simpson enters college in hopes of becoming a scientist. Sideshow Bob, roughly early to mid 40's, is in jail…again. What for this time? He finally killed Bart Simpson!**

**But wait! Bob has an alibi for the night Bart died. Despite everyone ignoring his pleas and evidence of him being innocent for once, a young girl hesitates to assume his guilt immediately. In the middle of studying gene research, Lisa Simpson goes to talk to Bob.**

**After a much needed talk and thoughtful analyzing, Lisa agrees to help Bob get out of jail only because she wants the real killer and he agrees to help her find him…yet in the aftermath of Bart's death blossoms something new, something confusingly good.**

**Can Bob and Lisa admit their feelings and find the real killer?**

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The telephone was shrill in the half empty apartment it lived in. Footsteps were heard echoing as the owner made its way to said phone. Attempting to balance a rather weighty textbook in one hand and a bottle of soda in the other, the person barely managed to pick up the phone and place it on her shoulder before it hit the ground.

"Hello?" The young lady took a sip of the soda, trying to shrug off the empty lonesome feeling the room gave off. The apartment was just recently moved into about a week ago and although there were several boxes scattered out in a very unorganized way, it still possessed no warmth.

The voice on the other side of the phone was one familiar to the young lady. It was nagging yet sad, almost hauntingly. "Lisa? How are you?"  
Lisa Simpson stood there, knowing her neck would get a cramp soon in she didn't fix the phone yet was unwilling to give up her source of caffeine; yet what college student would? Placing the book on her knee, balancing on one foot, she turned the page and grimaced when she heard a soft rip. Picking it up before she and the book fell, she replied, "Oh hi mom! I'm okay; just busy with this research paper Professor Bovar is making me do. Are you alright? You sound…depressed."

For the past two months ever since Maggie went to Paris, France to study abroad, her mother Marge Simpson had started to take notice of her husband's foul habits. What with Bart Simpson out of the house and managing several construction jobs, herself in college, and Maggie studying school over in another country, Marge was lonely. She no longer had anything to distract her and now that she was completely focused and alert, she realized just how…dare she think, horrible her husband was.

Of course because of this, she tried to discuss his drinking problem only to end up fighting with him. These fights slowly progressed into him leaving the house and going who knows where. Had Homer finally left Marge? Had Marge finally kicked Homer out? Lisa knew that either way, Bart would rejoice that his mother finally opened her eyes!

There was a long pause on the other side of the phone before Marge's shrill voice exclaimed, "Bart was killed!" There was a howling sob of grief that made her sentence sink into Lisa's smart mind. The bottle of soda fell onto the ground and bounced back and forth twice, the book slammed into the ground; both sounds echoed for a full minute.

"K-Killed?" Lisa stuttered, shock overwhelming her nature ability to pull out any word from her mental dictionary. How could her brother be killed? Although she was now in enrolled in Yale, she didn't speak to her family as much as she should have. Even if she did, Bart was always busy with construction…it was rare besides holidays to talk to him.

Yet killed? "How?! I know construction sites are…dangerous of course but what do you mean killed? Killed by a beam? By getting hit by a crane? By getting a ride in the wheel barrel?!" Had it not been for the seriousness of the situation, it would have been comical.

Marge seemed to be crying too hard to speak, there was rustling that hinting someone was taking the phone. Moments later the (shockingly) sober voice of one Homer Simpson answered her question, "He was stabbed through the chest the other day in his apartment. They arrested Sideshow Bob since they found a lock of his hair in Bart's hand…as though it was ripped out in a struggle. The trial's tomorrow."

"I-I'll get the…the first flight out." Lisa hung up the phone and stared at one spot of the wall for a long moment. Her mouth was hanging open, her legs shaking until they gave out. When she joined her book and soda on the ground, she sobbed softly, hugging herself.

It would seem after all these years, Sideshow Bob finally got his revenge…

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Next chapter: The trial, Lisa's thoughts, the 'evidence' against Bob. Review if you wish.


	2. Chapter 2

A four hour flight sitting next to a baby who was teething, sitting behind a man who liked to sleep with his chair pushed back, and sitting in front of an alcoholic who was snapping for more beer wasn't Lisa's picture perfect day. It was five in the morning when she dragged herself out of bed, having only gotten two hours of sleep since she spent the night crying, looking at old scrapbooks, thinking of old memories. By the time six AM rolled around, she entered a four hour flight that was from Hell.

Here was the good news; this flight took her mind off of the recent news of her brother's murder and the reason why she was on it in the first place, which was to see the trial. She stopped thinking over this, stopped brooding over the past, stopped thinking of what was waiting in the heart of Springfield and started to wonder when she'd get off the plane.

Here was the bad news; she was miserable there. On that flight she was desperate to get off but was annoyed, had a headache, smelt the foul scent of alcohol and even spilt her coffee on her lap. When she got off the blasted plane, she was unsure whether to call it a blessing or a curse.

Deal with a flight from Hell VS her murdered brother's trial.

Which was better?

Stepping onto ground for the first time in hours, Lisa let out a small groan at just how bright the lights were. Rubbing her eyes from lack of sleep, crying in the time of sleep, and from being blinded, she tried to find the way to luggage. After several attempts to find the signs, remembering faintly how horrible the airport was in Springfield, she headed towards the left slanted hall.

When she stood at the rotating belt, she sniffed a bit, hoping she didn't appear as off balanced as she looked. Glancing down, a sob escaped her throat unintentionally; a sling shot sticking out of a green backpack strolled by. A little boy, by the looks of it he was almost nine, grabbed the bag and ran over to his mother.

Biting her lip to keep quiet, she grabbed her small bag and headed towards the exit. The last thing she wanted was people, strangers, staring at her. It was bad enough she had accidentally cried for a split second, that noise alone was enough to grab the attention of the security guards at least.

Lightly dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, she hailed a taxi. Just as she placed her bag into the seat and got in half way, she froze; when did they have taxis? Shaking her head, she pulled the other part of her body in and muttered her home address, giving him directions of to where it was. This place had developed since she left.

What was once the small almost backwards town of Springfield seemed to have progressed into a city of technology, of a growing future towards the better. As she looked out the window, she saw several old adults she once knew, noticing there were new children there…yet the funny thing was, there wasn't many young adults. It was as though the old generation died, the young generation turned old, the children generation that became young left, and in place somehow there were only children.

How odd.

There was one almost disturbing thing she noticed as the taxi turned a corner; the old man Snake was talking to a look alike of his younger version…and the younger version was Nelson! Had she not been so lost in grief, she would have laughed at how…expected yet unexpected it was.

They pulled into a driveway; she got out and paid the man 20 dollars. The house was the same as it was several years ago. It was a piece of Springfield frozen in time, untouched by the growing times and new trends. It offered both comfort and sorrow.

To see that despite the world's disasters, this place was the same as always which made the sense of familiarity sooth her. Yet at the same time, she saw images of her and Bart fighting, of them scheming, of them playing, of them watching TV through out the yard and house.

Never again…

"Mom? Dad? I'm home!" She called out once she opened the unlocked door. That was the good thing about this neighborhood; while the rest of the world may be falling to pieces, this place was safe enough to always keep your door unlocked.

"Lisa? Oh Lisa!" A teary eyed handkerchief holding sorrow stricken Marge appeared at the doorway. She hugged her daughter and let out a soft sob. "It's nice to see you…if only the circumstances were better though."

"Hey mom…Where's dad at?" She asked and immediately regretted such a question. Her mother's eyes flashed with annoyance, hinting something unpleasant. Before she could try to make a retraction and ask something else, her mother snapped.

"He's at the bar, that's where he is! He refuses to go to the trial, he'd rather stay and Moe's and get drunk!" The moment of anger soon receded into the soft almost calm like mourning once more. "I'm sorry dear…let's eat something and we'll head over to the courthouse."

It took a moment to realize what her mother had just said. Yes there were times through out her childhood that he choked Bart for every reason from breathing to breaking laws. Yet…how could a father rather go out to some bar like per usual routine instead of seeing his son's killer brought to justice?

"Oh yeah, sure…the flight was horrible." She explained her ordeal that distracted her grief filled mind for a while. Her mother placed some grilled cheese with pickles and chips before her, which she basically inhaled since she hadn't eaten much except the college dish; ramen.

After they spent half an hour talking about the arrangements of Bart's funeral, she finally finished her meal. Placing the dish in the sink, she held in a smile to hear her mother fuss, "I'll do the dishes later, don't bother. Come on, we'll be late." It almost made her laugh at how it sounded like nothing had changed…yet everything had.

When they arrived at the courtroom, it was absolutely packed! Lisa pushed away a strand of her hair from her face, standing on her tippy toes to try and find two seats. Of course she felt very foolish when her mother stated, "Lisa, they saved us seats up front…come on."

When they sat down, she glanced around to see many of the familiar faces from the old community. It would seem whether from thirst of justice needed or from sadistic humor, or even boredom, they wanted to watch Sideshow Bob's trial. Once more, she felt mixed feelings; relieved yet saddened.

She sat down and glanced at the man who murdered her brother. He wore bright orange clothes which once more seemed to have frozen in time, untouched by develops in both technology and style. His hair was still bushy, sticking out, and a dark red brownish color, one of the few men who possessed such a tone.

What amazed her though was how…young he still looked. Although it had been something similar to ten years, he didn't seem to age at all! As he frowned like now, there were wrinkles from stress on his temple but nothing noticeable until you stared at him. She faintly wondered if his smile was still charming and his voice was still infuriatingly sophisticated.

That was one thing she had always…liked, in a sense, about the man. He was the only one in Springfield besides her that seemed to hold a large amount of knowledge in his mind about…well, everything! He knew Shakespeare plays from period to exclamation point; he could debate politics for hours as proven on the radio show once; he knew how to scheme and nearly get away with it. She had always felt around him that she was not alone, that she wasn't the only smart person nearby.

She should hate him for what he did, yes…but alas…she found herself thinking of his one and possibly only one charming trait. The voice of the Judge brought her back to reality. How long had the trial been in play already? He had said something about 'objection sustained'. Who had objected?

"I'd like to point out that Sideshow Bob's questionable past. He framed Krusty the Clown, he rigged an election, he attempted to kill a woman named Selma, he attempted to kill the deceased Bart several times…Although it is not proven, he and his brother tried to destroy a dam!" A respectable looking intelligent man spoke, obviously the D.A. "Ladies and gentleman of the jury, it is obvious to see what has happened; Sideshow Bob finally got his revenge! He went into Bart's home and stabbed him brutally! Yet young Bart did not give up fighting, he yanked a chunk of hair from Mr. Terwilliger's head!"

Lisa watched as he walked over to the jury, placing his hands on the ledge. "Ladies and gentleman…he claims to have been walking the streets at the time of the murder yet no one was with him, no one remembers him! He insists on innocent yet, ironically, this intelligent genius cannot even make up a convincing story! I am here to give you the truth…and the truth is, my friends, he killed Bart Simpson!"

The words sunk into Lisa's mind, really sunk in. Seeing the man right before her made her blood boil yet there was a spec of…doubt in her mind. Her vision became blurry with tears which she let them fall silently, the rest of the trial becoming muffled to her ears.

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Next chapter: Lisa goes over the evidence in her mind at night, staying in her old room, thinking of memories as well. She decides to go see Bob…Review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to AMX for reviewing! **

**Because ****Gaslight Saxophone**** I have decided to point something out; this is a ****fan fiction!**** A story written by a fan that will never come true! A story that is written in the author's view of things! Not every story about Homer Simpson will have him shoving donuts down his throat and making love to Marge. Either G.S. can't understand that or they worship Homer…either way, I blocked them because I do not like flamers. **

**If anyone has a problem with me portraying Homer as a depressed upset drunk who has more free time on his hands to do whatever since the kids are gone, stop reading this story because I will NOT apologize for offending you if that is the case. **

**However, if you're reading this and thinking you couldn't care about how I portray the characters in my FAN FICTION STORY, then please continue reading. Moving onto the story…**

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"We the jury find the defendant…guilty! Ah ha ha." Old and gray Dr. Hibbert stood, the laugh at the end purely instinctive as breathing. Of course this accidental laugh was far from being comical and it certainly did not lighten the dark tense mood.

Several people clapped and cheered. "At last!" They cried out for justice served. Others stood up and just started to leave, whispering to their friends what they thought of the trial process. Some smiled but remained quiet, lingering in their seats to watch a horror stricken ex clown be taken away. Lisa and Marge just sat there, wiping their eyes as though the tears were involuntary; perhaps they were.

After the courtroom was nearly empty and after heaving several 'I hope he rots for what he did to your poor son/brother', Lisa stood and walked out. One would think that since Sideshow Bob had been sent to jail several times, he wouldn't look so…terrified, so insulted, betrayed, so…pitiful! Usually he just grumbled with an annoyed look plastered onto his face and that's it; yet moments ago he looked like a puppy kicked.

Exiting the courthouse, Marge gave a soft cry but sniffed immediately afterwards, trying to keep control. They needed to stop by the store to get a few things since Lisa was probably going to be staying a few days…but that could wait. For now, all she wanted to do was go home and sit in her son's room.

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Lying in her bed, Lisa looked around her room. Just like this house, it was frozen in time. It possessed everything she had in it when she left home at age 17. Everything from advanced microscopes to posters of people who have won the Nobel Prize, it was home. She recalled a time when she would lie in bed near the window, staring up at the posters of the Nobel Prizes and wonder if she'd ever get one.

Once when she had just entered high school, she had made a rather large diagram of the human DNA strand with the letters carved onto the balls which were really colored ping pong balls. It was nearly three feet long and held up by the structure itself, nothing more.

She had been so furious when Martin, in hopes of beating her, threw a piece of his experiment at it which made it shatter into broken pieces. In such distraught, she had started to cry despite her age…and instead of her older brother picking on her like he used to, he helped her. He got all the pieces and distracted the Judges while she finished re-building it.

She had won because of Bart.

Chuckling softly, she turned onto her side and stared out the window. The tree house which now was being covered in moss and bugs was in her view. How many times had her family taken refuge there? When Marge kicked Homer out, he stayed in that thing…and replaced Marge with a tree shrub for a while. It was where Milhouse first made out (not that Lisa wanted to know that). It was where Bart would hide and throw spitballs at Lisa. It was Bart's little house away from home.

Wiping away a few stray tears, she let out a tearful laugh as she recalled so many incidents. It was so hard to picture him gone, to realize he was gone for real. Part of her expected him to jump into the window or break through the door and attack her with a water gun. She half expected him to appear out of nowhere and shout, "I fooled you! Eat my shorts!"

But he was dead…

All because of Sideshow Bob who was now serving the rest of his life in prison. But…Lisa's brows furrowed, confusion entering her mind. He had seemed to…insisting on the fact that he was innocent although his story was weak. This was a man who was a genius in some matters and yet the best story he could come up with was 'I was roaming the streets' while there's no witnesses!

Turning in her bed, she closed her eyes with a sigh…something did not add up right. In her gut and heart she knew this. Rubbing her eyes, she attempted to sleep with only one thought in her mind; she'd go see Bob tomorrow.

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Next chapter: Seeing Sideshow Bob! Review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to TheyKilledKenny, Swisssmarie, AMX, & RIPSydBarrett for reviewing!**

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"Lisa, what are you doing today?" Marge asked as she served a duo of bacon and eggs to her first daughter. Homer sat there in silence, reading over the newspaper as though it were a normal day routine. Funny how Lisa never saw him do such a thing daily…perhaps he started when the kids moved out; after all, who could read with such noise?

Stabbing her eggs with a fork, she grimaced inwardly. Why did every hint of stabbing something or poking something remind her of her brother's murder? Although she wasn't there when it happened, she could picture it all and hated the see the image at such times.

Ignoring that, she took a bite and spoke up. "I'll probably go to the library for a while. I need to research and write my own opinion paper about Dolly the sheep that was cloned, write the cons and pros of it. Plus I need facts and book titles to back it up."

"Ah, seems like just yesterday you were in school doing the same paper." Homer shook his head, looking as though he were reminiscing. This made Lisa smiled and bite into her bacon. With age came wisdom…but from the way he attacked his food, he still lacked manners.

"Alright well just be careful. Do you have your cell phone?" Marge started to clean the pots and pans she had used to cook breakfast. That was one thing Lisa truly did hate leaving to go to college; home cooked meals. Even if she had the money for such food, Lisa had no equipment to make such delicious foods! All she had was a microwave and a half a lifetime supply of ramen.

One day she would look up just how much the ramen company made. Yes it was cheap but since college students nation wide bought it, they must be filthy rich! Perhaps she could _really_ stop by the library to look up such a thing. Truth be told, she was procrastinating from her paper (she would ask the professor for more time considering her grief) and decided to go to jail. Not go as in stay there, just to visit.

She couldn't tell her mom though for she'd flip out, with good reason too! "Yes mom." She answered after a pause, checking her small purse just to be curtain. For whatever reason, gut feeling or hunch, she suspected Bob Terwilliger might just be telling the truth. It was a long shot but it could happen.

Marge sat down with a steaming cup of coffee, the aroma of rich flavor filling the air. Lisa inhaled it deeply; she was never one able to drink a whole cup of coffee no matter what was in it. She had soda as her caffeine of herbal energy drinks. In fact, for once in her life, she wasn't the only one who drank herbal anything! There were loads of people at college that did it!

Stretching her arms a bit, Lisa stood up and washed her dish quickly, ridding any traces of food on it. Her mother was about to protest when she put it on the drying rack and grabbed her purse. "I'm going now…I should be back by five or six. If not, I'll call, okay?" She kissed her mother's cheep and hugged her dad who briefly put down the comics side of the newspaper.

That explained why he was reading it in the first place.

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After a rather lengthy routine security check, Lisa finally got into the prison. They had to check her purse as though it held Hitler in it, ensuring no weapons of any sorts was in it. She insisted she only used eye liner, that was the sharpest thing she had and it was dull from being used already. One thing was sure, she thought with a comforting smile; the police in Springfield had gotten a little better.

Pushing her hair back, making sure it stayed down and curled at the back of her neck, she walked into a visiting room. Her lips were layered in lip gloss, never lip stick since she found it too…uncomfortable. Her eyes had eye shadow, a very light shade that could blend into her skin tone and eyeliner. She wore dark blue jeans and a sweater that was a little stretched from wearing it so much.

Tapping her fingertips against the metal table, she started to get a bit nervous, a bit twitchy. This place held criminals and she had just requested (and was waiting to see) the criminal to attempted to kill her brother several times. The police had improved, yes, but were they really that good to where she didn't have to worry about a break out?

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake…

Suddenly the creak of the door alerted her. The door was behind her, closest to her; she choose this seat so that if the man attempted something, she would reach the door first before he could block it. Heavy footsteps were heard making their way around the table, the chains making an unholy racket.

Lisa's spine straightened rigidly from familiar fear; she recalled how terrified Bart used to get, staying up through every night just to ensure he wasn't chopped up in his sleep. Now she felt this fear although she was in a controlled environment. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she relaxed slightly.

"Well, well, well…if it isn't Lisa Simpson. My, you have grown." His voice was still deep and silk like, making her unintentionally shiver, her nails dragging against the table briefly. Quickly she made a fist and placed both hands in her lap on her purse. Despite the fact that he was in jail, he seemed to sound smug as though he manipulated the whole area.

"Hello Bob." She spoke in a leveled tone. It was funny how one would try to hide their fear by speaking calmly…when in fact that's the obvious way of showing how much they are scared. "You look annoyingly well." It was true; this man didn't have a gray hair in sight! Despite the wrinkles from stress when he frowned, he didn't seem to change that much.

"As do you, Ms. Simpson." He sat down, looking rather relaxed. "What pleasure do I owe you for such a visit? I fear even if I sign a petition to stop the Nuclear Plant that it wouldn't count for much."

Ignoring this, she answered with a firm tone, leaning forward slightly. "I'll get straight to the point; I want to hear your side of the story. I want to hear the side of the story you weren't able to tell in court yesterday."

There was a moment of silence at first, something flashing in Bob's eyes, but he smirked to some extent. "Writing a story about how I 'killed' your brother after so many years? Trying to become the next Shakespeare or Stephen King?"

"No, I'm trying to be the next Nobel Prize winner but I'm putting that on hold." It was crystal clear that the girl was not here and not in the mood to joke around with him. As much as she hated to acknowledge this fact, her visit was probably like Christmas to him since he could tease and taunt her. Not only did she suspect to be the only other intelligent person in Springfield who could deliver a witty remark or pun, she suspected she was the only one able to understand him. After all, this jail was filled with not so smart people.

There was a serious gleam to Bob's eye that wasn't there before. He leaned back against the metal chair as though it were a recliner. "I see…Why?" There was rightful suspicion in his tone.

Copying what he had just done, she leaned back as well. "…Because if you aren't the real killer, I want the real murderer brought to justice for my brother."

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Next chapter: Bob's side of the story, Lisa's skepticism, justice! Review!


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to AMX for reviewing!**

**Quick note since I'm having trouble describing it; Lisa's appearance is basically like in that one episode where she runs off to the woods, meets a fortune teller, hears about her first love, and almost gets married. I can't recall what it's called though.**

**Plus, I switched the names of a popular TV show so I wouldn't get sued. **

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There was a long moment of silence between the two adults. It wasn't that Bob was debating if he should tell her; it wasn't that he was making up details; it wasn't that he was trying to mock and annoy her. He merely got sucked into everyone's favorite past time of when they see someone for the first time in years; studying them.

Her hair was no longer spiky like an overgrown porcupine. After growing out of her teenage years, she finally had the mind and the money to style it to where it grew almost to her shoulders, pushing toward her. She looked quite mature, refined. Her ears were pieced with a pair of small flowers that was dark purple and a light blue in the middle. They matched her sweater that was a dark blue and a light purple; it hugged her figure which Bob couldn't help but notice. After all, he hadn't felt the warmth of a woman's flesh for years…however; he forced his eyes not to roam.

From the moment he saw her when she was only eight years old, he knew that she would get out of this small town and be something big. Her knowledge and brain were far more advance than anyone in that town. Now she sat before him, a grown young lady trying to win a Nobel Prize, in college, coming here for real justice. Not many would do that.

"You wish to hear my story? Very well, I'll tell you…only because you're the only person in Springfield who I trust would not try to make a quick buck." He finally broke the long silence.

Lisa jumped slightly, having been in deep thought herself when his rich deep voice broke her train of thinking. She met his eyes and fought the urge to blush, wondering why he had such an effect on her. "Alright, I'm listening."

The ex-clown inhaled slowly, trying to be able to tell as much as he can. "A week ago I decided to breeze through Springfield for the memories an-…"

"You mean the ones of Bart and me putting you away several times?" She suddenly blurted out, smugness in her tone.

Glaring dully at her, he spoke in a flat tone, "Yes. Those." His tone revived. "Now then as I was saying…I decided to stay here a week as a vacation before heading out to New York. I rented a hotel room nearby and the other night I decided to go to the store for some chips. I rarely eat anything quite so unhealthy but for some reason I was just itching to have one bag.

"I reached that insufferable Kwik-E-Mart I had used to frame Krusty, half expecting to see Snake robbing it. Alas, I saw Nelson who seemed to be Snake's apprentice robbing it. Such youth, such potential, wasted! Anyway…I decided not to be there when the cops arrived even though it'd probably take them a good half hour. I started to walk up and down the streets of Springfield, looking around at…well, everything.

"When I got back to my hotel room, it was roughly two in the morning because that horrible show called 'That 1990's Show' came on. As I explained to the jury though, I did not watch it so I couldn't tell you what the plot was. I fell asleep and then I wake up the next day to hear pounding at my door. That's my story, Ms. Simpson."

It took Lisa a moment to think and realize he had stopped talking. As he spoke every word, she imagined it the best she could. In her mind, yes, it made…plausible sense. It was possible, yes, but there was so much more evidence against him; his past, his threats, his attempts, to schemes!

He could have easily killed Bart. He could have come through here to kill her brother and try to go to New York before the cops caught him. It was a predictable routine for Nelson to rob the story once a week, thanks to Snake's influence, so Bob could have figured that out from anyone. Not to mention, since Nelson took up Snake's job, he had been imitating him in every way.

It was also common knowledge that 'That 1990's Show' came on every night at 2 AM like clockwork since not many people watched it. What with the plagiarized cartoons and reality shows, no one wanted to stay up so late just to watch reruns. That, plus the fact that he couldn't say what the plot was in the show hinted that he was indeed lying.

Yet…her gut said no, he was being truthful.

This story he said was far too weak. From a mad genius, his story should have been…believable; it should have been complex instead of simple! Yet here he was with a weak story proclaiming innocence. It just didn't make sense! It was…it was…it was…

"Confusing." Lisa finished her thought out loud on accident. Looking up, Bob raised an eyebrow and it must have been his intense curious stare that made her realize what she just did. Blushing slightly, she spoke up again, "I suppose I believe you enough to where you couldn't have killed my brother."

"That's lovely; now my conscience is clear!" He made a rather dramatic toss of the hands. "I can lie in my grave in peace now that one of the Simpson's believe I'm innocent!"

Lisa rolled her eyes, standing up. "While you sit there spewing sarcasm like the shallow mind you posses, _I'm _going to go look for evidence."

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Next chapter: Searching for evidence! Review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to AMX for reviewing!**

**As I said before, this is a short story so I'm going to skip to the rising of the climax. **

**I just got done with my first day of school and, with the long slow agonizing classes of going over rules combined with 4 hours of sleep and the south heat...I'm exhausted.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own cereal names.**

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So many hours had passed.

Lisa arrived at her old home around 7 PM, not having realized how long it took to visit Bob and gather her evidence. Her parents briefly checked up on her, her mother giving her a quick filling dinner, before they headed off to bed early. It was plain to see just how sick Marge was with grief, both figuratively and physically.

After munching on her mother's delicious chicken soup, amazed and appreciating the homemade meal once more, she sat down in her room. How she would miss her comfortable bed and the warm food once she returned to college! Pushing aside those thoughts for now, Lisa lay on her bed with paper scattered randomly before her. "This looks something similar to my first semester in English." She chuckled to herself, rubbing her temples.

Why was she so interested in proving Bob innocent? Well, to find the real killer of her brother and avenge him, bring true justice to his name. Something else bugged her though. There was another reason of why she wanted to get him out of jail but she couldn't pin point what it was.

Here she was lying on her bed with papers scattered blindly on the bed as though it were homework she needed to do. Here she was skipping college classes that determined her future just to look over something that could possibly be nothing just for the sake of checking for a criminal. Here she was thinking about him!

Something about the man made her shiver, even when she was but a child! When she was younger, she naturally assumed the chilling sensation was from fear…but how wrong she was! Once she hit her teenage years and puberty came around the corner, she started to feel her heart race at the mere thought of him; hearing his voice made her feel light headed; seeing the man whether on TV, newspaper, or live, made her body tingle.

So maybe her interest in him wasn't completely saint innocent but it certainly wasn't…well, she honestly couldn't think of a word to finish that sentence. In all her college vocabulary, in all the pages of her mental dictionary that grew thicker each year, she couldn't think of one word that might finish the sentence honestly. Was this bad? Yes, it was.

His voice…yes, that was the first thing that caught her attention. His voice was so demonic, so deep, so rich like dark chocolate, sophisticated, mature…it was something hardly every found in Springfield! What really kept her attention and reeled her in was the words spilling from his mouth, dripping off his voice.

His words proved just how well his mind worked. He showed off his intelligence, which was pretty easy to do in a small town, by using words bigger than two syllables. Lisa's mind matched his, his matched hers; they could actually hold a genuine debate about politics that wasn't based on Cap'n Crunch VS the Trix Rabbit; discuss books that weren't covered by a sticker claiming its level was first grade; life!

Now really, how many people could she do that with?!

The receipts of his hotel staying, pictures of every red light in the area that was passed by, and every police report lay before her…it turned into a blur. Her eyelids felt heavy, her muscles relaxing without command. Letting her head rest on several pictures of speeding cars, she felt…drowsy.

With a small yawn, she decided to rest her eyes just for five minutes…

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Next chapter: Bob's thoughts; looking through the evidence which may convince Lisa he is guilty…or maybe he is not guilty! Review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to AMX, Ruby Roots & Mary Sue's Ugly BFF for reviewing!**

**School so far has seemed long since we went over rules and such for the first few days, hence the first part of the chapter. I'm exhausted, I'm having trouble with my sleeping pattern/schedule, and I already have homework XD Yippie! Still, I'll try to update as much as I can. I hear a hurricane…Gustov was it? Yeah, some hurricane like that's going to hit us so maybe I'll be able to lose a day of school because of flooding or something!**

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Prison was often compared to school by numerous people.

They both had fences, although school 'claimed' to say it was for their own protection. They both had horrible food half the time. They both had older people watching them closely almost like hawks. They both have dress codes or even uniforms that their prisoners hate. And they both have schedules that basically control your life.

You had a certain time in the morning you had to wake up every day, you had to dress and groom and eat before transportation to school; same with prison. You had a few minutes before class and between classes to talk to your friends, and then once you heard the bell you take off; same with prison. The bell dictated a good portion of your life, telling you when to eat, when to move, when to relax…so on so forth in both worlds. The bell was the ruler, your commander in a sense!

Sideshow Bob knew this very well. For nearly half of his life he spent it in prison with a bunch of inbreeded low life idiots who couldn't even rob a store without screwing up which way the mask went on. It was rather pathetic but alas, he couldn't figure out what was more pathetic; him feeling like Einstein in prison…or in Springfield. Either way, he felt annoyed and alone. His thoughts swarmed his mind, thoughts that possessed more than five words a sentence and actually made sense. He hated the feeling of feeling like the only human being with a functional brain in this place.

That was before Lisa Simpson came along.

Even when he had been foiled by the first time ever by Bart Simpson, he sensed Lisa was…special. Although through out the Simpson kids childhood he never really had too much interaction with the girl, mostly with her brother, he knew she was similar to him. Both were intelligent, knew what current events meant, could have the same taste in music…they were like one spirit spilt in two despite the age difference.

Ah yes, the age difference.

Bob lay on the poor excuse called a mattress as he stared up at the ceiling. So many people knew him there, some from the news but most from their stay from before. They knew that he was to have top bunk or else…of course the 'or else' was a hallow threat but since it was from a 'killer', it was good enough. If some brave fellow decided to try and take his bed, he would lecture them in a Shakespearean way which left them stumped long enough for him to steal said bed.

As he lay there trying to get his mind off of his aching back, he started to ponder about the young lady. No longer was she a girl of age eight, she was now in college and he…well, he was in his forties, enough said. There had been cases of some early 20 blond thing, one of those silly celebrities, marrying an old man for his money. There have also been cases of a young lady falling for an older man old enough to be her father, but it was for love…not money.

Why bother thinking about love at a time like this?

He was in prison for life for 'killing' the girl's brother. Sure she was trying to help him out of jail and get the 'real' killer…but that was all it was; helping. She was not hitting on him, winking playfully, lifting her skirt her or hinting in any form or fashion that she wanted to date him. Even if she did, everyone would look down on it.

_"Ironic,"_ he thought with a small grin, _"how if the two smartest people in Springfield got together…everyone would sneer and claim it was dim. How cruelly ironic."_

Why should he be thinking of this in the first place? Why even bother thinking this, about the woman? Perhaps boredom had entered his mind and made him ponder of random things. Perhaps he was losing his aging mind. Either way, he should have stopped…but, of course, did not.

One must imagine how annoying this was, to think about something you shouldn't think about. Lisa Simpson was like fruit from the forbidden tree, something poisonous to touch, to look at, to taste plucked from the tree. Despite the age difference, which could easily be overlooked, there was the matter of her heritage, her blood.

Many thought he had killed her brother and just because she didn't think so, didn't mean she would date him. Her parents would have a fit and try to kill him in he tried. The whole town knew very well of his attempts on Bart and would assume he wanted something from Lisa, when in fact he did not. It was pointless to try, to daydream it, to think about it!

He needed to remove his attention, his thoughts, his mind from that subject. He didn't need to be driven to insanity just because of one young woman. He certainly didn't need to feel the need to be loved or commit suicide before he was 'found innocent'. Such a thought made him chuckle. The whole town assumed he was guilty; the kid was dead from so many times of trying to kill him. He'd be happier if he was free and the boy was dead…alas, it was not.

Rolling onto his side, he tried to take a quick nap to forget the name 'Lisa'. However, as luck would have it, the guard suddenly announced, "Sideshow Bob; you have a visitor!"

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I love leaving you guys in suspense lol

Next chapter: The truth! Evidence tells the real story of what happened to Bart Simpson! Review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to AMX, Mary Sue's Ugly BFF, RIPSydBarrett, Swisssmarie and ****Sacharissa Lupin**** for reviewing! **

**Okay, this is probably the last chapter of the whole short story! I know it seems a bit fast but like I said, it's short…so yeah lol. I hope you all enjoyed it because I just HAD to get this idea out there. From what I know, and I could be wrong, this is the first Bob/Lisa paring ever. **

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"A visitor?" Bob wore a very dull expression on his face as he sat up. "Oh joy," he mumbled with heavy sarcasm, "I wonder who it could be! Perhaps Krusty the Clown! Or maybe Apu…" He stood up from his 'bed', wincing at how his back protested in agony. Maybe he was better off sleeping on the ground; same difference, just high elevation for the bed.

He headed towards the door and gave a soft sigh. Was he ready to face Lisa after such thoughts? Probably not but what other choice did he have? He wanted to go in there and find out if she had gotten evidence that would prove his innocence. He needed to go there and confront her and her findings; it may mean his freedom once more.

On the other side of the prison paced Lisa Simpson. Her cheeks were warm; her brows scrunched together in an attempt to review the information, new tears in her eyes yet none fell. She looked stressed and worried, saddened yet strong. This new evidence, this new information proved that Sideshow Bob was indeed innocent! She was both terrified and overjoyed that she could help him out of this place.

She knew she had feelings for this man. She knew it for quite some time on a subconscious level of her mind and now it was a well-known fact. Yet she knew better, after all she was considered something of a genius, than to confess her emotions like a child. He'd only laugh at her or use her and hurt her; she'd be better off just to free him and leave back to college immediately.

At hearing the creaky almost rusty door open, she wiped away the unshed tears quickly in a blurred motion. The simple sound signaled that Sideshow Bob had entered the room. The need for strength and bravery flared up inside of her; she had to push aside her foolish feelings to free an innocent man from prison.

Glancing up at the man, she felt her cheeks warm up instantly. Despite pushing her feelings away, she still felt rather…well, embarrassed because of the evidence and what it said. Clearing her throat, she sat down and shivered softly from the chilled metal touching her hot skin. Unlike the visit before, she wore dark blue jeans with a short sleeve sweater outfit with a V like cut. It had shrunk in the wash, thanks to college washing, so it made her more exposed than she liked to be. Her hair was pushed behind her ear, showing flower earrings that Bart had reluctantly bought her for Christmas.

Sideshow Bob's gaze traveled up and down her in a brief subtle fashion. He took notice quickly of her shirt. Yes it was a bit ungentleman like and he rarely ever did such a thing but…well he _was _male after all! Clearing his throat as well, he sat down across from her, placing his hands on the cold table. He noted just how tensed and embarrassed she looked. What had happened?

"Hello again, Ms. Simpson." His rich voice floated around Lisa like some sort of virus. She suppressed a shiver but gripped the folder she held a little tighter. For a moment, she actually forgot the effect he had on her.

"Hello Sideshow Bob." She spoke in a stern yet soft tone, struggling to keep eye contact with him. It felt like he could see every image, hear every thought in her mind. It was…creepy.

Although he knew very well of why she was here, he decided to make light conversation…or risk annoying her. Either way was fine with him. "What brings you to my humble home?" There was a light sparkle of amusement in his eyes that showed just how dry his humor could be at times.

Deciding to play ball, Lisa shot back smoothly. "You could really use a decorator; this place is so boring. The colors are dull; they don't match your colorful personality at all." Such light talk going on while heavy thinking stormed in both of their brains. It seemed that neither was willing to let the other triumph, they were determined to act as calm and play it off cool. Was it pride? Or was it the subconscious desire to make their visit longer than was necessary? Either way, it took two to tango so cue up the music!

Referring to her slightly pink cheeks, he bluntly stated, "Nor do they match your colorful appearance, Ms. Simpson." The corners of his lips twitched as if wanting to grin.

Quite quickly she realized what he meant and hated how her cheeks darkened even more. Gulping dryly, she felt her spine straighten without her command, hinting how uncomfortable she was at the moment. Bob's eyes missed nothing; he was as sharp as a tack and quick as lightning. "Ah, Ms. Simpson, if I didn't know better I would say you rather disliked that. Did you dislike my comment or the fact that I paid attention to you? Why, I must be one of the few males who do." That probably was one of the worst things he could say.

Her eyes dimmed with injury, sparkles of rage fluttering in and out of them. With her lips twisted into a frown, she growled softly. Slamming the folder on the table, which shockingly made a loud slapping noise, she sneered, "I'm trying to help you, you arrogant monster! For your information I've dated several men and they all agree I'm very attractive!"

Bob crossed his arms, his own eyes hardened, his lips turned upside down into a frown. What he had hoped to say which had been a very snappy comeback had turned into something far worse, worse for him at least. Instead of snapping back, he found himself spilling part of his forbidden thoughts that was on his mind earlier. "I'd jump to agree."

Both froze, replaying the words in their minds.

"I mean…" The man in prison ware hesitated, for the first time loss for words. Clearing his throat, he shifted uncomfortably while Lisa just remained there, frozen like a statue. Her back was straight as a board, her eyes rather large, her lips parted to breathe slowly.

"You…Did…Did I hear that right?" She whispered in a soft tone. Oh how she feared that if she spoke too loud that this would become a dream and dissolve! Was this all a dream? No, she felt the chill of the metal against her skin, it had to be real.

Tapping the table a few times to regain her attention and get the shock out of her system, Bob spoke. In hopes to lead her away from what he accidentally confessed, he asked, "What about the evidence? What does it prove? That _is_ why you're here, isn't it? I'm sure you didn't just come to look at the zoo full of common idiots we call criminals."

Inhaling slowly, all emotions left her. Shocking how she could be so…flared up and try to push her feelings aside when the moment she needs them, they flee. However, he was right; she came here to share the evidence only. A sorrow like a thunder cloud swirled around her suddenly. With a gentle sigh, she opened the folder and placed several pictures before him.

Four were pictures of the crime scene; the knife near by, the hair in Bart's hand, the blood on the carpet, Bart Simpson now pale and dead. Another was a picture of a red car, no doubt Snake's, zooming by a red light. Instead of Snake's head sticking out to show the camera his tongue, it was his replacement, his apprentice, Nelson! It was black and white, nothing that special…or so one thought.

Raising an eyebrow, the man looked over the pictures. Besides the picture taken by the red light, he had already viewed these before. The day in court, his day in court, was…still vivid. Was she trying to review the lies that made him go to jail? Did she believe those lies now?

"What is the meaning of this?" He questioned with his tone being a little sharper than he meant.

Lisa looked reluctant to speak. She looked like she wanted to be sick. She was upset, holding in tears. Biting her bottom lip for a moment, she inhaled to speak. "The pictures show that it is your hair in Bart's hand; they even matched the DNA on the skin cells on the ends to you.

"According to the autopsy report…" She took out a packet of papers, "the knife wound was downward when it entered; you are taller than him. Your alibi, of course, is weak since you went strolling the streets. Well…I dug around a bit."

Tapping the picture of Nelson who imitated Snake running a red light, she continued. "As you see in the corner at exactly the time Bart died…you're there. You were walking around at the right time, right place." Indeed if you looked closely you could see Bob about to take a step, glancing at some window.

The next piece of paper she had to take out must have been painful, Bob guessed, since she seemed to be in slow motion. Wiping away a tear that hadn't fallen, she pulled out a crumpled looking piece of trash. "This was found at the crime scene, see? It's what the knife was laid on." On the crime scene photo, the bloodied knife rest on the folded crumbled paper. "No one really noticed or cared about it…until I opened it."

Opening it, words appeared. She inhaled shakily, forcing herself to be strong and speak. "This is from Bart. It was…just listen.

"_I'm not great at making long poetic last wills. I'll be lucky to spell everything right. Over the past few weeks, I've been sick. Not sick physically but sick as in love sick. It's been hell trying to realize my feelings towards my own gender and keep it secret. I don't know what was worse; fearing if Homer ever found out or never having the man I've fallen for. I know many will be shocked at this but I fell in love with someone who has always hated me. Despite the hatred and the fear I had for him and he for me, I started to dream about him. I know he'll never love me; he wants me dead. So to end my misery, my loneliness, and to give one last silent gift that he'll never thank me for…I'm ending my life. I'm sorry Lisa, Maggie, Mom and Dad. I'm sorry, my friends. I just can't stand it anymore._

_-Bart"_

Tears were streaming down Lisa's face as silent as the grave Bart was buried in. Her voice cracked at the end. Slowly folding the paper and placing it on the table for him to view, she looked at him. "…He loved you, Bob. He was a homosexual and he fell for the man he could never have. Weird isn't it? Humans always want what they can't have but this was…to the extreme." Wiping her tears away, she let out a strangled sob. "So he killed himself. This proves it and so does the street picture. Show those to your lawyers." With her hand over her mouth, she turned sharply. She was about to sprint out of the jail and go back to college immediately, never to see the man again. Never to see the man she secretly loved once more.

First Bart fell for him, then Lisa…was Maggie next?

"Lisa…" His shocked voice rang out, stopping her dead in her tracks. What could Bob say? He could say he was sorry, yes. He was the reason why Bart was dead; he may not have physically brought the knife into Bart's heart but he might as well have. Life was too short, he realized this now…so he let his mind switch over. Thinking of earlier, he blurted out, "I love you."

The young Simpson female felt like ice traveled down her spine. Love? Oh how she wanted to spin around and confess her feelings. Yet was he not the reason of why Bart killed himself? How ironic; Bart ended his own life to please Bob which made Lisa come and realize her feelings while helping the man out. She knew that how she hesitated and how she froze so still that he knew she loved him too.

"…I'd suggest not coming around Springfield anymore…all it holds is bad memories and bad luck." Lisa whispered loudly but was it to Bob or was it to herself? As she walked out of the visiting room looking as broken as she had been at the funeral, she looked up at the sky.

Was Bart watching over the man he secretly loved now? Was he watching over his sister who helped the man they both loved?

One thing was for sure…

Lisa may be persistent about freedom, but about love, she was not…

Not in this case…


End file.
